


in the eyes of a saint

by ascience



Category: Football RPF, Men's Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Borussia Dortmund, M/M, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascience/pseuds/ascience
Summary: And - Felix gets the sinking feeling that he’s not just intruding on a great, bigwhat if, but on a very realhas been.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DONT OPEN SHIP INSIDE
> 
> For Imk who makes me write stuff about things I never even thought about before.  
> Title is from [Grace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCnsEy0tpbw).

** I **

Lukasz has two of Kuba’s jerseys framed on a wall in his bedroom. One is from the national team, the other one from Wolfsburg, both are match-worn and stretched over cardboard under polished glass.

It’s not something Felix is technically forbidden to know, but not something he would know under normal circumstances either. He’s had a lot of time to look at the frames nonetheless.

The first time Felix sees the jerseys, he knows immediately that he’s made a mistake.

It starts hours ago already, when they are all sitting in the bar and Felix brushes against Lukasz by accident. When he decides to do it again and again. When Lukasz looks at him like he was looking through him somehow, shoulders hunched over.

Felix watches Lukasz’ jawline work against the neon light of the bar and grins at Lukasz lewdly because the alcohol makes him daring. He doesn’t expext Lukasz to respond to the awkward flirting of a youngster, but Lukasz proves him wrong and pulls him in a cab with himself.

Felix says, “Now what,” because as always he can’t keep his big mouth shut. Lukasz throws him a pained look and pays the cab driver fifty as a tip.

He walks Felix up to his flat, makes him take his shoes off and never moves his warm hand off Felix’ waist.

They’re both a little buzzed, a little much maybe, and Felix doesn’t remember how they get from the hallway to Lukasz unbuttoning Felix’ shirt in the bedroom.

Felix is shaking a bit and he’s afraid that maybe he bit off more than he can chew. He knows he’s short and stocky, and he never paid it much mind, but in front of Lukasz - all angles - he worries.

But Lukasz is slow and calm and careful and breathes kisses against Felix’ neck, like he’s practiced it for years.

When Felix shrugs off his shirt and looks up in that moment, he sobers up at the sight of Kuba’s name and numbers on the wall.

He feels guilty then, about the transfer and about the fact that Lukasz has touched him like _this_ and about his want.

“Ignore it,” Lukasz whispers when he notices Felix staring, like a husband tells his affair about the family photo on the nightstand, and pushes him backwards onto the bed.

Felix feels heat wash over him, the lust drowning out the shame, and he grins at Lukasz.

It’s a mistake that Felix lets happen again and again.

 

** II **

Not for the first time, Felix wakes up in an empty bed, next to a neatly folded blanket on Lukasz’ side.

He stretches, collects his clothes from the floor and gets dressed. It has become a routine and Felix doesn’t want to think about what that means. He combs his fingers through his hair a couple of times although it’s pointless, and pads into the kitchen to see Lukasz.

Lukasz is stirring coffee in two yellow mugs, but stops and turns around when he hears Felix enter.

“You’re awake,” Lukasz says gently.

Felix swallows and nods and watches Lukasz first draw his hand through his ungelled hair and then shove it into the pocket of his loose grey sweatpants.

“I made breakfast,” Lukasz continues and gestures at the array of items on the table.

“That’s great,” Felix says and throws Lukasz a wide smile.

They eat in silence and Felix pretends to be intensily interested in the Polish label on the honey glass. He thinks of a million conversation starters, multiple times taking the deeper breath to just say something, but always chickens out just after that. What did he know that could actually interest Lukasz?

In the end, it’s the vibrations of Lukasz’ phone that interrupt the silence.

Lukasz has the phone on his ear already before he apologetically explains, “Kuba,” and walks out of the kitchen.

Felix can hear Lukasz’ muffled voice through the ajar door. It’s evident how happy he is about the call, just from the way he sounds, Polish and occasional words of German blended together.

Lukasz laughs at something Kuba says, and Felix bites into his toast.

The call lasts for an easy thirty minutes during which Lukasz forgets about Felix entirely, and Felix is used to that.

When Lukasz returns to the kitchen, his coffee is cold, but he downs it anyway.

“Kuba, yeah?” Felix asks, as if Lukasz hadn’t told him.

“Yeah,” Lukasz says and flashes his teeth in a smile that he only ever really gets when talking about Kuba. Felix may not have been around very long, but some things you understand without explanation.

“How is he?”

“Good,” Lukasz offers after a moment of hesistation, then adds, “Wolfsburg lost last weekend.”

Felix knows that, somewhere in the back of his mind with the rest of the other league results that don’t directly influence Dortmund. The way Lukasz looks though and turns his coffee mug in his hands, it’s beyond personal to him.

And - Felix gets the sinking feeling that he’s not just intruding on a great, big _what if_ , but on a very real _has been_.

“I think I’m a homewrecker,” Felix tells Christian when they hang out after training the next day and plumps down on Christian’s bed. Felix googled the word, nervous that Christian might not understand in German and that he’d have to awkwardly describe it to him.

To give him credit, Christian tries to hide his surprise the best he can.

“That’s…” he starts slowly. “Are you serious?”

“Kinda,” Felix answers, staring at the ceiling.

Christian pushes his legs to the side to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Who- Can I- Can I ask who it is?”

Felix presses his lips together. He can feel Christian staring.

“I swear I won’t judge,” Christian says, and he sounds like he actually believes that. “Is it, uh, the wife of someone here?

Felix snorts. He never even spent a thought. “God, no.”

“Huh. Someone I know at all?”

Felix nods and glances at Christian.

Christian doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, and Felix can basically read the list he’s crossing off on his face.

“Oh,” Christian says then, a little paler than before, Felix believes. “It’s Auba.”

Felix almost chokes on his own spit and sits up coughing. “Jesus,” he croaks. “I wouldn’t.”

Christian seems seriously relieved. “Good. I mean. He’s- oh _boy_ , but you know him and Marco are. You know.”

“Yeah,” Felix says quietly. “It’s, uh. Lukasz.”

For a moment, Christian looks like he’s about to laugh, before he realises that Felix is entirely serious and he pulls a pitying grimace.

“And how long did you think that was gonna go well?”

 

** III **

Felix isn’t naive. He knows Lukasz doesn’t love him or anything even close to that, and Felix doesn’t love him either, he just hasn’t got a grip on his juvenile admiration yet.

Perhaps someone else would have found it irritating that Lukasz gasps, “Jakub,” in a rough voice more often than “Felix” when he comes, but Lukasz is never anything but gentle around Felix so it’s fine.

Felix gets rough sometimes, puts red scratches down Lukasz back or the like. He can hold Lukasz down in bed, but the fact that he can do it with half his strength tells him that most of all, Lukasz wants him to.

It’s those moments that feel best. Felix leans his sweaty forehead against Lukasz’ and lets his mind be blank, ignoring the other person that’s always in the room with Lukasz.

They lie next to each other in the dark and Lukasz stares at the jerseys on the wall and Felix stares through them.

“Lukasz,” Felix tries again. Somehow he can’t make his tongue slip around the letters correctly.

“Łukasz,” Lukasz repeats, clearly and patiently, but Felix still feels inadequate when he can’t get it quite right after so many tries.

“Lukasz.”

“Łukasz,” Lukas says and lightly puts his hand on Felix’ chest, stroking his thumb over the skin. “Kuba is visiting tomorrow.”

Felix tenses, looks out of the windown through the small gap the curtains leave open.

“Okay.”

“Do you want to come along?” Lukasz asks clumsily and moves his hand to Felix’ hand under the sheets.

Felix shrugs.

“Lukasz,” he tries again and it sounds better, even if he won’t ever have the pronounciation of a native speaker.

“Felix,” Lukasz says, and leans over to kiss Felix’s shoulder, and then so low that Felix feels his lips move more than he hears the words, “and Jakub.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/kissthecrest)/[tumblr](http://lahmly.tumblr.com/)/my happiness about writing something longer than 200 words for the first time in ages. I'll be back to happy stuff for spring fling the latest. Hope you liked reading!


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